Scribbles
by MissKitski0
Summary: W'rah, a Khajiit caravanner, is desperately trying to return to Elsweyr after her arrest and near execution after crossing the boarder into Skyrim. I'm no good at summaries I apologize! Rated T just to be safe for possible language and violence.
1. Chapter 1

To my dearest family,

I have gotten into some awful trouble, Mother, Father, Brothers.

As I was entering Skyrim, the great land of the Nords, I was arrested!

Arrested for being in an unfortunate circumstance that was beyond my own control.

You were right, Father, I should not have gone to Skyrim…

The Thalmor are putting immense pressure on the Empire to keep the Nords in check, and it appears that they have crossed the line on both sides.

I fear that I may not be able to return home soon…

As for my arrest, I was not aware of what charges were pressed against me, though I would assume that their reasoning was that I am of Khajiit blood, therefore I am there to cause mischief and other misdeeds.

For whatever reasoning they had, they were not in the mindset of fair and equal trial.

I am afraid to say, but I was to be executed!

Now now, Mother, Father, Brothers, shed not a tear, as I am (mostly) unharmed and well, as I am in no bad relation to the Empire anymore (for the moment, anyhow)!

I was captured as I was crossing the border from Cyrodiil, with everything (including my clothing!) confiscated from my person.

I was among men and women calling themselves the "Stormcloaks", if I hear them correctly.

I am afraid this lot has eluded me in the recent news and I am unsure of what to think of them.

Anyhow, I had been treated rather harshly as the Legion seemed to be agitated to an extended degree while conversing with these Stormcloaks.

From what I have hear the two parties saying, the Jarl of Windhelm has murdered Skyrim's High King!

I heard whispers of Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm (whom was sitting next to me in such a proximity that our legs touched!) using the power of The Voice to rip High King Torygg apart!

Being seated so close to a murderer made me more than a bit nervous, especially with the power that he possessed (though he had a gag placed in his mouth so that he could not Shout).

I was not the only one that was not of the resistance to be arrested this dreary day, for a petty horse thief was caught in the act of stealing one of the Legion's horses!

I know not if this man is mad, or if ignorance of the situation is what lead him to commit this crime, but what is certain is that he is praying to his Gods for salvation.

As his ramblings and swears got unbearable to the point that even the Stormcloak soldier in front of me grew anxious and weary.

Said his name was Ralof, if my memory serves me correctly.

He seemed like he was convinced that he was doing the right thing by rebelling against the Empire.

I have nothing to say on the matter, I am in enough trouble as it is so I will keep my head down for now.

I know, Mother, Father, Brothers that you are wondering about my execution, and frankly, as do I!

We were brought to a small town called Helgen, where the residents all cheered for the deaths of the rebels and praised the Legion for its noble deeds in seeking order and justice.

I am unsure if this is what I would consider justice, for the horse thief was to be executed for a crime that would otherwise be resolved by a fine and a stern slap on the wrist, and I was to be put to death for merely crossing the border at an inopportune time!

I was shocked and appalled at the manner in which these soldiers went about their duties.

Names were called, and the horse thief begged for his life.

He was killed by the sentries as he attempted to flee.

Scared and coming to the realization that I, too, was about to be executed, I walked up to a soldier, ashen and shaken by the event that had just unfolded.

He remarked that many Khajiit caravans often get into some definition of trouble, as more of a way to ease his own nerves than to seek offense, then asked me my name, to which I replied with my head held high, "This one is W'rah Xeirssius of Elsweyr." with my head held high.

The young Imperial frowned and turned to his captain and said "What should we do, Ma'am, she's not on the list."

"Take her to the block!" the captain shouted with little regard.

The Imperial soldier sighed heavily, looked at my feet, then said, "I'm sorry… I'll see that your remains are sent to Elsweyr…"

I felt a sensation that I have never felt before…

Fear, regret, sadness, anger, dread…

I don't remember much of what happened after the Imperial soldier talked to me.

One of the rebels were executed, I heard the faint cheer of spectators in the distance.

Then I heard the one thing that I was dreading…

"Bring the cat up next!"

I cannot begin to describe the raw fear and panic I felt as I was dragged up to the chopping block…

There was a noise in the clouds, a distant roar, something that shook me to the core.

"I said NEXT PRISONER!" the captain shouted.

Dearest family, I thought I was about to die..!

As the Imperial captain shoved me down and placed her foot on my back to keep me down, I saw….

I saw something that I thought was only legends and old stories told to entertain children!

Out of the clouds, a large dragon that was as black as night and as fierce and terrifying as in the stories of old!

I can hardly believe it as I write it on this parchment!

A dragon, of all things! Here at my execution!

This horrid beast looked down at us all, and, I will swear this to my grave, looked me in the eye as it Shouted and raised a storm of hellfire!

I know you think me mad now, but news of this fantastic beast will reach all over Tamriel and mark my words, this is just the beginning!

Now dear family, I am alright, no need to go out and rush to Skyrim.

In the confusion of the dragon attack, I fled the burning town with an Imperial Soldier, the very one that assured me that my body would be returned to the warm sands of Elsweyr.

His name is Hadvar, born and raised in Skyrim in a village near the now ravaged Helgen named Riverwood.

I am currently writing this letter in the home of Hadvar's Uncle, Aunt, and young Cousin.

I must say, it is an odd comfort to hear the child make such rapid, excited inquiries about what has happened to us.

She in a way reminds me of the twins in the way she cannot seem to hold her tongue or understand what personal space is.

Nevertheless, I must quickly finish this letter, for I need to speak with the Jarl of Whiterun so that this village can be protected from the dragon (if mortal men can defeat such a creature!) and the eventual bandits that will come for whatever is left at Helgen.

With that in mind, Mother, Father, Brothers, I say this:

I love you all from the bottom of my heart, I fear that I have gotten myself into quite the predicament!

I shall write in a speedy and regular manner so that you shall not fret over my well-being.

With the end of this letter, I beg you this, dear family:

Stay away from Skyrim and spread the word around Elsweyr (though I fear that news of this upcoming war will entice, not deter, the caravans from this dangerous province).

With the thought of warm sands and you in my mind my dear family,

Much love and worry, W'rah


	2. Chapter 2

To my dearest family,

It appears that I have, once again, gotten myself into some trouble.

Though, this time it is not of my conscious initiative.

As I have seen from your recent letter, you all are worried about my well being, seeing as how dragon are now roaming the skies and the Imperial Legion is sending those they deem a threat to the headsman without a trial.

And, I am afraid, you are correct in being scared.

I visited the Jarl of Whiterun, Balgruuf, to inform him of the dragon that has destroyed Helgen.

Much to my dismay, he asked me to assist his court magician in finding a tablet so that he could study something or another (honestly, the magician lost me halfway through his explanation).

I tried to decline, no, I DID decline!

But, my good nature and the pressure of not only the magician, the Jarl, and the Jarl's housecarl cause me to begrudgingly accept.

I will say this about my expedition: I will never, EVER, for as long as I live, EVER come back to Skyrim!

Especially if I am required to go anywhere near a damn ancient Nordic burial site!

I am uninjured, no need to fuss my dear family, but I am going to have nightmares about the draugr that roam those ancient halls.

Though, something…. odd did happen while I was there.

As I slew the final draugr that stood between me and the stone tablet I was required to find, I noticed some odd, ancient writings on the wall behind me.

I have never seen such writing, though it was… oddly familiar.

It is… difficult to explain, but…

I could read some of the words!

It read… well… I more or less SAW the words in my native tongue in my head, or at least understood it as such, that read "Unrelenting Force", or something to that effect.

It is… odd, to say the least.

Whatever it was, it has made me more anxious to come home to Elsweyr.

I returned to Whiterun, and delivered the stone tablet to the wizard.

I was paid, and about to take my leave, when the Jarl's housecarl, a dark elf, grabbed my arm and the court wizard's as well, and dragged us up the stair, to where I saw a hold guard (who was shaking in his boot and completely terrified) conversing excitedly to Jarl Balgruuf.

To my horror, a dragon had been spotted not far from the hold I was currently visiting, and the Jarl wanted me to go with his housecarl and some other guards to see what damage has been done.

The reasoning behind this, was because I had survived Helgen.

I, once again, tried (in vain) to refuse this suicidal mission, the the dark elf merely dragged me (by my tail, no less!) to the outfit of guards that would be accompanying us to the watchtower that the dragon was last spotted.

To say that the guards were terrified and pessimistic would be a vast understatement.

The dunmer woman had to drag us all (me physically, the other men metaphorically) to the tower.

My family, I thought I was going to die on this fateful day.

I am still shaken from the battle that ensued on and around the destroyed watchtower!

There, indeed, was a dragon (though it was not the same one that attacked Helgen), and my family, you will not believe this!

This horrific beast spoke!

I could not understand the language, though it had the same familiarity of the odd text that I found in the ancient Nordic crypt.

The beast shouted fire and caused my ears to bleed from the sheer force of the noise and my fur to be charred and singed.

I honestly do not know what God or Gods were smiling down upon us this dismal day, but we slew the dragon with no casualties or serious injuries.

Though there were no casualties, something terrifying and unexpected happened!

As the dragon was dying, it burst into flames, and screamed "Dovahkiin, no!"

I am unsure of what you know about Nordic mythology, but "Dovahkiin" is ancient tongue for something closely translated to "Dragonborn".

My family, I am afraid that I have news that is both unbelievable and terrifying as it is humbling….

After the dragon was slain, something… happened to me.

I cannot explain it… but according to the Nords that had I had accompanied, I absorbed some of the dragon's life force…

And shortly after, there was a thunderous roar of a shout that called the Dragonborn to the Throat of the World.

I… I do not know what to say…

A khajiit, a blacksmith's daughter and once thief, the Dragonborn?

Why… How…?

I guess things like this is something that the Gods decides.

Family dearest, I cannot come home.

I cannot ignore the call of the Greybeards, and these dragons will not stay in Skyrim forever.

I write this with a heavy hand, for I cannot begin to describe the fear and sheer uncertainty that I face now.

I do not want you to rush to Skyrim to be by my side.

Stay away from here, for my sake.

I could not live with myself if you were to get hurt or worse because of me.

Know that I will continue to write letters at a regular schedule and I shall do my best to not pick sides in this silly Nord war.

I have noticed that the caravans set up outside the major holds of Skyrim have increased in frequency and size.

I am not surprised, though I admit that it is nice to see familiar faces and to speak in my native tongue.

I saw some children running around in one of the caravans outside of Whiterun.

They remind me of Rhaj and Kahtan.

And how much I miss you all.

Please stay safe and watch the skies.

Much love and hope for this to be over soon, W'rah


	3. Chapter 3

To my dearest family,

I am becoming more and more homesick for Elsweyr.

I would rather trudge through the wet, marshy bogs of the Black Marsh than see anymore of Skyrim's snow-covered mountains.

On my way to The Throat of the World, I have been stopped by four thieves, two groups of Stormcloak extremists, and almost caught and arrested by one patrol of three Legionaries.

Do not worry, my family; I am unharmed and still a free woman (well, as free as I could be without being in custody).

The thieves were poorly equipped and had the intelligence of a lacking mountain troll.

The Stormcloak lot were distressed and more than a bit annoyed that a lone Khajiit was wondering Skyrim's long and lonely roads.

I, thankfully, did not meet both groups at the same time.

The first lot of extremists tried to scare me by threatening me by saying things like "Go back to Elsweyr, filthy cat!" and "Watch your pockets! She's probably already stolen your coin purse!" (those were the "nicer things they said).

I paid no mind, of course. I said nothing and went along my way as if they were not there.

After they saw that I was not taking the bait they laid out, they let me be, though I believe that they sent the second group after me to try and "rough me up".

Again, I am uninjured my family; the thugs were scared away by the Legionary patrol I mentioned earlier.

The men were concerned about my wellbeing, and after hastily waving off my ordeal and a quick saying of gratitude, the men stopped me once more.

They were suspicious that I was the Khajiit that escaped Helgen (to which they were correct!) and began hassling me for information!

The scars on the right side of my face gave me away!

O my family! I thought that I was going to be incarcerated again!

But Lady Luck must have been feeling wretched for how she was treating me!

The Legionaries and I talked (the men were civil and were open enough to listen to me) and I, unfortunately, had to lie to them about my identity.

As guilty as I feel, it was a necessary evil that could not be avoided.

I told them that I had gotten separated from my caravan and acted several moons older than I truly was.

I became inexplicably emotional when talking about the caravans, as I missed my fellow Khajiits and their familiarity.

The Legionaries must have felt pity for me, and offered to escort me to the nearest caravan (which was near Falkreath), to which I kindly declined on the "hurt" my honour would receive and the ridicule I would face if I returned to the caravan in the company of Imperial soldiers.

They didn't press me any further, and allowed me to go on my way (I could hear them muttering that they do not understand Khajiits and our "odd ways"; this made me chuckle).

I am currently making my way to Solitude so that I may plead for a pardon so that I can travel freely without fear of unjust incarceration.

I am writing this letter in Dragon Bridge's only inn, the Four Shields Tavern, in a dark and quiet corner away from unwanted eyes.

Dearest family, I am feeling anxious and weary; I fear of what the morning will bring me and I miss you all terribly.

Kahtan, Rhaj, I do hope you are not giving Mother, Father, and our older siblings too much trouble.

And no, I will NOT bring back any dragon memorabilia! I do not wish to face anymore of those horrifying beasts!

Gin, Derkraz, Father, I have not seen Derkeethus, though you said that he may be working in the many mines of Skyrim, so I shall keep my eyes and ears open.

Mother, Auntie Kisnita, I also have not seen Ahkari and her caravan in Skyrim as of yet, though I have not been traveling much and the roads are limited, so I will undoubtedly find her eventually.

Pardon the stains on this parchment, my hands are shaking from the cold and I am currently eating some sweet rolls.

You know how much of a messy eater I am, Mother I apologize.

Dear family, your letters confort me so! I read them and reread them every chance I get.

I can still smell Elsweyr's warm sands on the paper, along with Mother's perfume, the smoke from Father's forge, and what I assume is Kahtan and Rhaj's sugar coated fingerprints. These small things bring me such joy and some sadness, for I am horribly homesick now.

I am feeling ill and fatigued, though it may be from this weather that I am not use to.

I hear it is warmer near Solitude, and this seems to be the case, as Dragon Bridge is more wet and rain that cold and snow.

I hope it warms a little; I do not care for all this white and bitter cold and wind.

And I hope that those in Solitude are more friendly than the folk I have met previously.

I end this letter so that I may attempt to get some rest.

As always, I love you all dearly, and I hope you shall remain safe in Elsweyr.

I shall get my pardon no later than tomorrow, I promise you that.

Watch the skies and keep each other safe,

W'rah


End file.
